by M C Beaton
"Number five. Go along the corridor outside your door to the left and it's just around the bend."
Agatha walked along to Daisy's room. It seemed a welter of dresses. "I've been trying everything on," wailed Daisy. "It's turned very cold but I don't want to spoil a dress by wearing a cardigan over it."
"Let's see." Agatha rummaged through the pile of dresses on the bed. "What about this?" She held up a smoky-blue wool dress.
"Oh, do you think so?" Daisy's face fell. She picked up a green sequinned gown. "I thought something more dressy."
"No, it would be too much. You don't want to frighten him off. Besides, all these green sequins will throw a green light up on your face and you don't want that. Put on the blue dress and let me see it. I think I've got the very thing to go with it."
When Agatha returned, Daisy was wearing the blue dress. "There," said Agatha, handing her a deep-blue wraparound cape. "You put it on like so. It's a bit like a poncho. You throw that end around your shoulders. There!"
"I like that," said Daisy. "You are good."
"And you won't need a cardigan. That thing's very warm. Now let's tone down your make-up. Too much mascara. It's sticking your eyelashes together. And what happened to that new soft lipstick you got from Mr. Jerome's wife?"
After dealing with Daisy, Agatha only had time for a hurried bath and change of clothes before going down to the dining-room. Old Harry was teasing the colonel and Daisy about their 'date.' But both Jennifer and Mary looked resentful, almost as if they guessed it was Agatha who had put the idea of Daisy's taking the colonel out into her mind.
Agatha carefully divided the food on her plate into half, a la Muriel Spark. It was delicious roast beef with Yorkshire pudding and little roast potatoes, courgette, carrots, cauliflower and cheese, new potatoes, and peas. She felt again guiltily that half was the equivalent of a full meal anywhere else.
After dinner she felt restless and bored. "Game of Scrabble?" suggested Harry.
"Why not?" said Agatha gloomily.
Mary and Jennifer joined them. No wonder I never guessed what feuds and passions and emotions were lurking under the surface, thought Agatha as Harry shook out the tiles. You would think I'd never had that confrontation with Mary.
She tried to concentrate on the game. A waiter came in and drew the thick curtains, shutting out the view of a small cold moon shining on a large cold sea. Where is Cliff, the husband, now? wondered Agatha. I must ask Jimmy. I wonder if I'll see him before the weekend.
After two games she excused herself and went up to her room to receive a rapturous welcome from Scrabble. "You don't look at all like the fierce animal who attacked me," said Agatha, stroking the cat's soft white fur. "I hope Boswell and Hodge like you because I don't think I could bear to give you away." The phone rang after Agatha was undressed and climbing into bed. It was Daisy. "Could you come along to my room, Agatha?"
Agatha said she would be along in a minute. She put on a dressing-gown and walked along to Daisy's room.
"How did it go?" she asked, sitting on Daisy's bed.
"We had such a nice time," said Daisy, "and he thanked me very much. I did suggest we might go somewhere for a drink afterwards but he said he was tired." Her mouth drooped in disappointment.
"I should think a man like the colonel will feel honour-bound to repay the invitation," said Agatha. "He's been used to you as a friend. It will take time for him to think of you in any other light."
"Oh, you are so right. I ... I leaned against his arm in the theatre and he didn't draw away."
Big fat deal, thought Agatha cynically. He probably didn't even notice. She said good night to Daisy and went back to her room. An idea struck her. She picked up the phone and called reception. "Are they still playing Scrabble?" she asked.
"Yes, they're in the lounge," said the sleepy voice of the night porter;
"Colonel Lyche with them?"
"Yes, the colonel went upstairs and came back down and joined them."
"Thank you." Agatha put the phone down.
Poor Daisy.
SEVEN
THE next few days were quiet for Agatha. With the exception of Daisy, the others seemed to be avoiding her. By Saturday, she found she was eagerly looking forward to Sunday, when she would see Jimmy again. She had phoned Mrs. Bloxby and had asked if James had shown any signs of missing her. Mrs. Bloxby had hesitated. She had heard from an angry James how he had driven to Wyckhadden, only to learn that Agatha had gone out with her inspector. Mrs. Bloxby knew from Agatha's query that somehow the hotel had failed to tell her of James's call. She thought Agatha's inspector sounded nice and she had always thought James Lacey a dead loss, and so she begged the question by saying "Well, you know what James is like," which Agatha had interpreted to mean that James had shown no interest in her at all.
It would be nice to be Mrs. Jessop, to be a married woman, one of a pair. She did not want to live out the rest of her life alone with her cats. So, instead of dashing back to Carsely, she stayed on. She could simply have told the police she was going home. They had her home address and number. They could contact her any time they wanted.
On the Saturday, she went out for a walk. The day was bitter cold. The morning's frost had not melted. It glittered on the iron railings outside the hotel under a small red sun which stared down on the glassy sea behind a haze of cloud.
Agatha walked along the pier past the kiosks, closed for winter. Did Wyckhadden ever come to life in the summer, when a warm sun shone down and all the kiosks were open, selling buckets and spades, postcards and candy-floss? It was hard to imagine on such a day when the biting cold seemed to have frozen everything into silence.
She saw the tall figure of the colonel standing by the rail where Janine had gone over, looking down into the water.
"Morning, Colonel."
He turned round. "Morning, Agatha. Snow forecast."
Agatha stopped beside him. "Odd place, Wyckhadden. Seems to get every sort of weather but warm sunshine."
"We had a grand summer last year. I had to buy a fan for my room, it was so hot."
"Hard to imagine."
"You know," said the colonel, "I often imagine the summers of my youth when I'm standing here. Different world, a safer world."
"No murders?"
"I suppose there were. Of course there were. But they didn't happen to people like us."
I was once one of them, thought Agatha, and deep down inside I still am, but she remained silent, looking at the sea.
"I see you've rented a car," said the colonel.
"Yes, I'm used to having one. Got a bit tired of walking everywhere."
"Do you know, there's a place on the road between here and Hadderton that serves hot scones and butter,". Just the day for hot scones and butter," said the colonel wistfully.
"I'm not doing anything," said Agatha. "Let's go."
"Splendid!" He took her arm and they walked back along the pier. Agatha looked at the hotel. A brief flash of red sun on glass. She was sure again they were being watched through binoculars.
"Should we take any of the others?" she asked.
"Let's not bother," said the colonel. "I'll see them at lunch-time."
They got into Agatha's car. Following the colonel's directions, she headed out on the Hadderton road. "It's not far from here," said the colonel at last. "There it is up on the crest."
"It's a farmhouse," said Agatha.
"They serve teas and things."
Agatha's small car lurched up the track leading to the farm. "There seems to be more frost here than in Wyckhadden," she said, looking at the white fields.
"Bit warmer down by the water, but not much."
"And is there really snow in the forecast?" asked Agatha, stopping in front of the farmhouse.
"Cold front from Siberia."
"There's always a cold front from Siberia," grumbled Agatha. "I wish they'd keep their cold fronts."
"The reason they send them down to us," said the colonel, "is because they
know we like to grumble about the weather. It's the favourite British topic of conversation."
"Safer than murder, anyway," said Agatha.
They got out of the car. An elderly lady answered the door to their knock. "Why, Colonel. It's a while since we've seen you," she said.
"Mrs. Raisin, may I present Mrs. Dunwiddy. Mrs. Dun-widdy, Mrs. Raisin."
Agatha shook hands with her. Mrs. Dunwiddy had neatly permed grey hair, a wrinkled face and bright, unusually blue eyes, very blue, sapphire-blue.
"Take Mrs. Raisin straight through to the parlour. You know the way," said Mrs. Dunwiddy. "There's a good fire."
Agatha followed the colonel into a cosy room which was like something out of a tourist brochure: low beamed ceiling, horse brasses, chintz, Welsh dresser with blue-and-white plates, log fire crackling in an ancient ingle-nook fireplace. The room was obviously used as a small restaurant. There were five tables surrounded by Windsor chairs. They hung up their coats on pegs in the corner.
"Splendid!" said the colonel, rubbing his hands. "You can even smoke here, Agatha."
And before she knew quite how it had happened, Agatha had taken out a packet of cigarettes and lit one up.
Rats, she thought, here I go again. But she did not stub the cigarette out.
Mrs. Dunwiddy came in and placed a covered dish on the table along with a plate of strawberry jam, a dish of butter and a bowl of thick yellow Devon cream. "I'll bring the tea," she said.
"How did you find this dream of a place?" asked Agatha.
"One summer. That's when I really go for long walks. Got to keep fit. Just happened on it."
Mrs. Dunwiddy brought the tea in, a fat china teapot decorated with roses, smiled at them and left.
"I'll never eat lunch after this," said Agatha, lifting the dish and looking down at a pile of warm scones.
"It's nice to get away from the hotel once in a while," said the colonel.
Agatha looked at him curiously. "Don't you lot ever get fed up with each other?"
"Us at the hotel? I suppose we do. But no one wants to be alone in their old age and I suppose we've formed ourselves into a sort of family."
"It's a strange set-up, or maybe it's these murders that make it seem strange. Did you enjoy your evening at the theatre?"
"Yes, very much. Jolly kind of Daisy to ask me."
"She's good company," said Agatha, determined to put in a good word for Daisy.
The colonel laughed. "Daisy agrees with anything I say, which a lot of men would like, but my wife was a woman of very independent mind, rather like you, Agatha. I prefer the company of that sort."
Damn, thought Agatha. Poor Daisy.
"I think Daisy is actually very shy and unsure of herself. I think she probably has a strong mind."
"But clinging. She leaned on me all through the performance and she was wearing one of those sort of cloying perfumes. Quite claustrophobic."
Agatha wondered if she could let Daisy have some of that love potion,
"I'm very fond of Gilbert and Sullivan," said the colonel. "They're doing the Pirates of Penzance tonight. Care to go?"
"Just you and me?"
"Yes, if you would care to."
Agatha hesitated. Then she said, "Me being the visitor and outsider might upset some of the others. They might feel, well, excluded."
"So they don't need to know." The colonel buttered another scone.
"So how do we manage it?"
"I get the tickets ... you want more of this cream?" Agatha shook her head. "The show's at eight o'clock. You drive there. I take a cab and meet you outside."
Agatha thought of another evening in the hotel. "Okay, you're on," she said.
Agatha put on a warm sweater, wool skirt and boots that evening. She felt that to really dress up for the colonel would, in a way, be another treacherous knife in Daisy's bosom.
Scrabble, the cat, had demolished two cans of cat food and was lying on he bed, purring sleepily.
"Be a good cat until I get back," said Agatha. Scrabble opened one green eye and stared at her and then closed it again.
Agatha picked up her coat and went downstairs. Daisy was pacing up and down the reception area.
"Where are you going, Agatha?" she asked sharply.
"Out to meet Jimmy," lied Agatha.
"The colonel has just gone out," fretted Daisy. "I asked him where he was going and he said he was going for a walk. I offered to accompany him but he said he was meeting an old army friend."
"Nice for him," said Agatha casually and made her escape.
She got in her car, switched on the engine and let in the clutch. She saw to her irritation that Daisy had come out on the hotel steps and was watching her. Agatha drove off as if she were going into town, then she circled back and drove past the hotel. She swore under her breath. Daisy was still standing on the steps, and she stared at the car.
The colonel was waiting outside the theatre. They went in together. "I got good seats. I think the cold has kept most people away," he said.
The performance began. Agatha forgot about Daisy, forgot about murder and settled back to enjoy herself. But at the second interval, she turned and looked around the theatre. As she looked up at the dress circle, her eye was caught by the flash of blonde hair but the woman moved her head behind one of the gilt pillars. That's Daisy, thought Agatha, all her enjoyment in the evening leaving her. I'm sure that was Daisy.
During the last act, she turned and looked up but the seat next to the pillar was empty.
I must have imagined it. And why should I feel guilty? thought Agatha angrily.
When the colonel suggested they go for a drink after the performance, she agreed.
"This is fun," said the colonel. "Nice to have different company for a change."
Agatha would have liked to discuss the murders but knew she would not get anything out of the colonel, so she told him about her life in the village and he told her army stories and they sat there amicably chatting until after closing time.
There are men in this world who find me good company, thought Agatha rebelliously. To hell with James Lacey.
She drove the colonel back and dropped him off before they got to the hotel. Before she went up to her room, she said to the night porter, "I'm tired. I do not want any calls whatsoever put through to my room, not even calls from the residents of this hotel."
The night porter made a note. Agatha scuttled up to the sanctuary of her room.
After ten minutes, there came a knocking at the door, followed by Daisy's voice, shouting, "Agatha!"
Agatha pulled a pillow over her head, feeling guilty and threatened. After several more furious bouts of knocking, Agatha was at last left in peace.
In the morning, she breakfasted in her room, fed the cat, and then wondered if she could get out of the hotel without going through the main entrance. She phoned Jimmy and told him she would pick him up along the promenade outside the cinema.
"When?" he asked.
"About fifteen minutes."
"Why? Press bothering you again?"
"No, I'll tell you about it when I see you."
Agatha put on her coat and then opened her door and looked cautiously up and down the corridor. There must surely be a fire-escape somewhere.
She walked along silently round the corner, quickly past Daisy's room, past other rooms to the end. There it was, clearly marked. FIRE-ESCAPE. She pushed down the bar and opened the door. An iron fire-escape led down to the hotel gardens at the side. She could not shut the door from the outside. She would just need to leave it, closed as much as possible, but not locked, until she returned.
It was even colder than the day before and a chill wind whipped at the skirts of her coat as she made her way down. She scuttled around the side of the hotel and into her car and drove off without looking up at the hotel windows, frightened that she would see Daisy glaring out at her.
Jimmy's tall figure could be seen waiting outside the cinema. He got in the car. "
This is a very small car," said Agatha apologetically. "You'd better push that seat back a bit. Now, where do you want to go?"
"If you drive straight ahead, we can go along the coast a bit. I'd like to talk. What have you been up to?"
"Not behaving very well. No, I've been behaving all right, I think. No, I haven't."
"Out with it, Agatha."
"It's like this. If it weren't for you, Jimmy, I would sign off at the police station and go home."
"What! You! The great amateur detective of the Cotswolds."
"I'm not the great amateur detective of anywhere. Inspector Wilkes, you know the one at Mircester, he was right when he said I didn't solve crimes, I just blundered about in people's lives until something happened." She told him about Daisy and the colonel. She ended by saying, "So you see, I was disloyal to Daisy. The colonel's not the slightest bit interested in her, but she doesn't know that. First I shatter Mary's dream and now I'm well on the way to shattering Daisy's. It was selfish of me. I was restless and bored and the colonel is good company."
"Better than me?"
"No, nothing like that, Jimmy. He's a polite, elderly gentleman, that's all."
There was a little silence and then Jimmy said, "You are a very attractive woman, Agatha. You should be very careful. Don't let Colonel Lyche fall in love with you."
"I think that's highly unlikely, but it's nice of you to say I'm attractive, Jimmy." Agatha privately did not think she was attractive at all. Attractive women were the anorexic ones you saw in the magazines with the glossy pouting lips. They were not stocky middle-aged women with small eyes.
"Now how do I make my peace with Daisy?" she asked.
"You could say you wanted to get the colonel alone to find out what he really thought of Daisy?"
"That might be raising false hopes. He actually doesn't rate Daisy very highly. I would need to lie."
"Why don't you move out of that hotel and move in with me?"
Here was an opportunity to find out what life would be like with Jimmy. But she thought of that bright sterile bungalow up at the back of the town and repressed a shudder.
"Not yet, Jimmy. I'll stick it out a little bit longer. How's the case going?"
